Here are the concerns:
That I'm not eating enough to make a full-sized human.
That I don't have shit together enough to get house together by the time very small human with very large needs arrives.
That we'll never take a vacation again.
That the desire to burn everything in the house and start from scratch is not just hormonal.
That they will keep me on jury duty next week(!), and I'll spend the next five months of my pregnancy watching a murder trial.
That I'll hate society even more than I already do if they keep me on jury duty.
That my already less-than-immaculate housekeeping will become even worse (I know this is pretty much a guarantee).
That the little fellow will hate us because of his name, no matter what it is.
That despite the fact that I am deep into my thirties, Tiny will have an irresponsible git of a mother.
That my husband will leave me when he realizes that I am an irresponsible git and take Tiny with him (not a serious concern).
That all of our friends will disappear into the ether with the arrival of the bun.
All in all, aside from generalized existential angst, it seems pretty manageable, right?